Aftershock
by Metallikato
Summary: TFA Human AU. There are some things that you learn about life when you live with tattooed middle-aged Southern bounty hunters- even if you're a ninja. LockdownxProwl  Rated M, thanks to Lockdown .


A.N.:

Since the "Odd Couple" and "Odd Moments" stories are officially over, I've bawled my brains out over two of the best fics I have ever read. I'm back in Prowl Mode for right now. Here's a short fanfic of a fanfic of an AU of an animated/comic series; this takes place after the events of "Odd Couple", so if you haven't read it yet, this is definitely a spoiler... Get ready for some fail.

I definitely Grammar-Nazi'd myself, but probably not enough.

**Warning: Implied Lockdown/Prowl, nothing too graphic. Language. Prowl-harrassing.**

* * *

><p>Aftershock<p>

* * *

><p>.<p>

It was definitely too much to ask for, apparently, to hope for a night of peaceful sleep.

The large textured hand scraped over his hip expertly, with a slow dip around his waist. Calluses, short nails, knuckles... Every detail played havoc with his nerves until it wandered too far south for his liking.

"Lockdown," Prowl croaked sleepily, batting the dragster's hand away from him. He breathed in the heady scent saturating his warm pillow. "Not tonight, I want to sleep."

"Kid," Lockdown mumbled thickly, causing Prowl's spine to tingle.

Mattress springs creaked as the white mass wriggled closer to Prowl's rear and hooked a muscular leg over his lower body, effectively holding him down like a steel trap. A set of teeth made their presence known with a few nips aimed at a tan neck. Prowl let out a growl and scrambled out of his albino cage (he took a moment to untangle his hair from Lockdown's robotic hand). Unfortunately, the bounty hunter had no intention of letting his quarry get away, and the all-natural hand suddenly snaked over Prowl's hip and seized hold of Prowl-

"LOCKDOWN," Prowl snapped. "Let me go, this instant."

"Understood," Lockdown practically seethed. Mattress springs whined in protest as he retreated to his side of the bed. The few minutes he took to relax were useless, because as soon as he turned over (uncomforably) in bed, Prowl saw that the bounty hunter remained turned to the side so that the only view he offered his partner was his pale, tattoo-infested back. Prowl felt the sour fingers of guilt creep into his veins as soon as he realized just how harshly he had spoken to his partner.

Prowl couldn't go back to sleep with his partner in such a position. It was impossible to pinpoint the moment when he genuinely cared for the state Lockdown's emotions were in- or even the moment when he realized that he himself had emotions- but right now was that crucial time when he was aware of the possibility that maybe, perhaps... Maybe Prowl's heart hurt at the exact moments when he knew he hurt Lockdown. It definitely would explain the nasty feeling currently growing in his gut like a cancer.

A steadying breath was taken in the dark before Prowl raised himself to his elbows, looping his leg over Lockdown's rather solid hips and snaking his arms around Lockdown's ribcage. He buried his nose in the mountains and valleys carved into the scarred back. The musky air of redblooded, salty masculinity flooded his nostrils and made him feel smaller than before. Breathing shakily, he ran his warm, nervous lips over the scar tissue. Lockdown arched his back.

For a quick, earth-splitting moment he thought that perhaps the scarred, tattooed mountain would remain fixated on the other side of the bed, but by some miracle Lockdown turned over in bed and, moving Prowl's hair aside, kissed his neck.

"C'mere, Darlin'," Lockdown muttered, ushering the ninja closer. Prowl readily scooped himself into the Lockdown cage presented to him, allowing the bounty hunter to enclose him in a warm embrace that made his knees evolve into hot, knobbly goo. Instead of harsh gropes came soft strokes on Prowl's forehead, starting at the tip of his nose and ending at his hair line. "I couldn't be mad at you long."

"I... Apologize."

Lockdown sighed and stopped the stroking. Prowl released a complaining murmur, to which Lockdown said, "Darlin'... I know it's hard for you, but... Say 'I'm sorry' 'stead of 'I 'pologize' '."

Prowl moved around so that he could face his captor, and, unable to see him in the dim light, felt around the jaw with his lips until he found their matching pair. "Sorry, Lockdown," he whispered.

"Thank you, Darlin'," Lockdown whispered in return. His heavy breathing told Prowl that Lockdown was already falling victim to the temptation of sleep. "I forgive ya."

"Why?"

"You're learnin' how to be human," the tattooed man said gently (or as gently as he could with that eternally abrasive voice and deep vocal tone). "You've gone far since I met you, and you're lettin' yourself make mistakes, showin' your humanity a little more every day... I know you're not a little kid, Kid. You gotta know that I'm not gonna be 'round this planet forever, 'n' when I go, if you're left behind... I want you to know that you... You're gonna hafta keep goin'."

Draped in the warm meaty trappings of Southern Bounty Hunter, Prowl's content sphere of existence shuddered slightly at the mention of impending death; death was a concept that the Buddhist saw as less of a personal tragedy and more of a passing into another stage of existence. He didn't tell Lockdown that, however. Despite his better common sense, the ninja actually felt an uneasy thrum start up in the marrow of his bones, beating upwards into his heart. What if Lockdown really did disappear someday? Eleven months ago, Prowl was certain he would be able to live quite a long and happy life without constant fear of debauchery by the imposing, murderous landmass- but now, the realization of the mortality of their existence weighed on him so heavily that he suppressed a shudder and comforted himself with another nuzzle in the dragster's warm neck.

The aforementioned murderous landmass yawned. "I'm a nasty old bastard, 'n' I piss you off like the bastard I am, but ya mean more to me than I thought anyone could- if I can't keep goin', you gotta do the livin' for me. Spend an evenin' with Jack Daniels now 'n' then, lissen to George Strait 'n' evrythin' under the sun, lie naked under a tree in the backwoods for the hell of it... Pinch a few asses 'n' smile at work..."

"I refuse to do any of your more distasteful activities," Prowl yawned.

Lockdown smiled into Prowl's hair. "Darlin', you're too young ta be so old... I wantcha to live, 'n' grow like those weird-ass bamboo shoots you're growin' in the back yard. Little suckers keep growin' no matter how much ya cut them... Lots of things're gonna cut you, Prowler. Lots of things're gonna cut you deep, cut you down til you feel like you're nothin' but a skeleton... Ya gotta let people in... Let 'em water you 'n' let in the sunlight, then you're gonna grow tall..."

Prowl bit his lip, and Lockdown cradled the back of Prowl's head in his giant callused hand. He kissed the ninja's damp forehead. "Shhh... Even if I'm not there with you... You're gonna be more 'n' more human, til there's no more shame 'n' no more fear... You're gonna transform."

.

.

He woke.

He had not cried for over ten months, ever since the feeling of a cut string reverberated through his heart, the day when the world suddenly seemed emptier. When Torque had approached him that time, he already knew that the bounty hunter with sharp tribal tattoos, wherever he was, was gone. Even then, he could not bring himself to cry for too long. Crying couldn't release the anguish he had felt. He swore to himself on pain of death that he would kill the habit for the remainder of his life - but some things were worse than the pain of death. There was no name for the pain that seared him to his core, and fewer words to describe how it burned and soaked his nerves in alternating waves like a typhoon on an island.

His young shoulders shook with the burden of memories returning to the surface of a dark lake, memories that hurt him and made him feel more things than he could have allowed himself to feel. Emotions unbidden made their way to his core and reawakened the soul he had struggled to rekindle. The ghost of a touch lingered on his skin while sobs escaped his throat, and at last Prowl felt human. Prowl crossed his arms over his chest in an embrace unequal to the hugs from the firm, ivory-skinned bounty hunter whose voice should not have been able to make him shudder so much. Prowl's skin erupted in goosebumps as he ran his hand from his shoulder to his hip. The trail would forever be burned into his flesh as a memento of the man who had stripped the ninja of his pride, fear, and former self. Trees that had been injured had a way of growing around the injury, rising to the sky as a resilient force; forests that had been ravaged by volcanic fury would rise from their comatose silenceand erupt in a symphony of greens and yellows. His tattooed partner's kerosene voice and iron caresses remained in his ears and on his skin. His heart retained scar tissue like that on Lockdown's back, and the memory of the lava flows would remain with the forest forever. He had to be like the bamboo shoots that now stretched to the ceiling in his room, transplanted from Lockdown's backyard. He didn't want to shrivel and revert to the unfeeling stone he was before.

He wanted to live.


End file.
